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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095384">Cloaked in Shadows</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorianvirgil/pseuds/victorianvirgil'>victorianvirgil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Patton is a Vampire, The Mortal Instruments AU, Vampires, creativitwins are werewolves, dee is a warlock, implied dukeceit if you squint ig, logan and virgil are parabatai, logicality are the mains this time, prinxiety still there tho, really it’s a squad and a vibe ngl, the main gang are my muses i love them, yeah bitch i did that thank you cassie for chain of gold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:42:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorianvirgil/pseuds/victorianvirgil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shadowhunters have existed for as long as demons have been in the realm, but Logan Lightwood has only been around for eighteen of those years. In the winter of 1955, demons were still most certainly a problem and with his parabatai, Virgil, it was his duty to protect every creature on Earth—from mundanes to vampires, fae, and warlocks.</p>
<p>But even with this knowledge deeply engrained into his being, Logan still had no idea what he was up against. And why the hell a vampire was involved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cloaked in Shadows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> December 24, 1955 </em>
</p>
<p>The doorbell to the Boston Institute had only just been installed and when Logan Lightwood heard it for the first time, his gaze hardly flickered up from the book in his lap. Sitting in the lone chair in the bedroom and sharpening his prized dagger was Logan’s <em> parabatai, </em>his fighting partner that knew Logan better than he knew himself. Dark hair hung over even darker eyes and without looking up, he said, “You gonna get that?”</p>
<p>Bing Crosby’s “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” permeated in the air around them, words and notes blanketing the room in an angelic snowfall despite the record-high temperature just beyond the window. Seventy degrees at the sun’s peak, the mercury filled thermometer had claimed.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t planning on it,” Logan confessed, thumb brushing the bottom corner of the page and turning it with ease.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t planning on it,” mocked his <em> parabatai </em> in a posh British accent, standing up and letting the duller of the two knives drop onto the soft cushion—the imprint of his weight still prominent—while tucking the other into his belt.</p>
<p>Logan glanced up from his book, his pure green eyes seeming to glimmer in amusement behind his glass lenses. “Your impersonation of me is unlike any other, Virgil. Now, run along and go answer the door, but don’t stab unless you’re positive it’s a demon. You almost killed Roman that way, if you recall.”</p>
<p>“That was only once,” Virgil countered with a shrug, grinning at the thought of their friend—who, really, Logan knew was more than just that to his <em> parabatai </em>—and slipping out of the bedroom door. Instinctively, Logan’s ears caught the soft footfalls as Virgil descended the three flights of stairs and the doorbell as it rang again.</p>
<p>It had only been a moment since the initial ring, and whoever was behind the monstrosity of a front door clearly anxious. In trouble and, possibly, with trouble right on their heels.</p>
<p>If that were the case, Logan hoped his <em> parabatai </em>would keep the front doors of the Institute, an old Catholic church invisible to mundane eyes and a refuge for warriors like them with angel blood in their veins, closed.</p>
<p>Once Virgil was out of earshot, Logan’s world became utterly silent, a silence, since his mother’s death, Logan had grown used to. One that drove his father nearly insane and made him remarry. Settling in Boston and training with the youngest Ke son under Remy Branwell had been Logan’s escape.</p>
<p>He had a younger brother now, another Lightwood with green eyes, dark hair, and a dashing smile. Not that he had ever met the kid before, didn’t even know his name.</p>
<p>Besides, his life was in Boston now; here with Virgil, Remy Branwell and his wife, and Raymond Patriarca, a mob boss who had been fooling around with warlock and magic causing the boys’ tutoring to be temporarily on hold.</p>
<p>And left the Institute empty for him, Logan marking his page with Virgil’s abandoned dagger and placing it by the bedside table before unbuttoning the top of his shirt. On the side of his neck was his <em> parabatai </em> mark, the only bit of evidence that Logan was not alone in this world and that Virgil’s heart continued to beat.</p>
<p>If Virgil died before Logan, he had been told that the permanent rune the other had drawn on him years ago would burn off his skin, but Logan still checked frequently. Just to be sure.</p>
<p>Leaving both hands free, Logan flew down the stairs as silent as the night, his forearm hair sticking up anxiously and he knew that it was bad, that Virgil was in trouble and, maybe, he was minutes from death.</p>
<p>“V-”</p>
<p>“In the Sanctuary, Lo,” Virgil called from down the hall as if sensing Logan’s presence. After so many years of fighting alongside one another, he probably could.</p>
<p>Logan released a breath he was unaware of having held and adjusted his collar, tightening his tie afterwards and opening the door to the Sanctuary. All Institutes had them—a necessity when required to speak to vampires who could not step onto consecrated grounds—and Boston was no exception.</p>
<p>They normally didn’t have vampires and warlocks inside of them, though.</p>
<p>“Ah, Mr. Gabriel Lightwood, is it not?”</p>
<p>If anything, Logan was normally mistaken for his father, not a man he only knew because of the ever-growing Lightwood family tree in their Idris home. “No, my name’s Logan.”</p>
<p>“A Lightwood, though?”</p>
<p>Two men were standing in the Sanctuary, the taller of the two speaking with his lips curled up into a devilish grin. The warlock, Logan easily guessed from the scales coating the left side of his face—a curse from his demonic parent, although his pure golden eye seemed to be more of a blessing than anything</p>
<p>Logan nodded while his eyes turned towards the shorter man who appeared no older than twenty. Soft, unblemished skin and plump lips would have been his defining traits had it been for the fact that he was not breathing.</p>
<p>The vampire flashed a set of sharp, pearly white canines with more innocence than could ever be expected of his kind, “Time flies, doesn’t it? Are you his son?”</p>
<p>“Something like that.”</p>
<p>Virgil cleared his throat, drawing the three sets of exquisitely pigmented eyes. “This is Dee Novak, a warlock. Clearly.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, I’m sure my fame precedes me and the pleasure is all yours,” Dee added, seeming to want to move the conversation along. “And this is Patton . . . my, darling, I seem to have forgotten your surname. Has it been that long?”</p>
<p>Patton merely shrugged, gaze flickering back to Logan and nodding his head in polite acknowledgement. “And you are young Ke’s <em> parabatai, </em>I’m assuming?”</p>
<p>“I am, yes,” he said with a nod, keeping the door to the Sanctuary open as he walked down the handful of steps to be on level ground with Virgil and the two immortals. “What is the cause of your visit, Mr. Novak?”</p>
<p>“Nephilim, always so formal. But I’m not Mr. Novak, that would be my father.” A slight pause. “Or, I suppose it’s not. I don’t think that he has a surname, come to think of it,” Dee replied, flicking his head a bit to push the strands of dark hair out of his eyes. An old childhood story flashed before Logan’s eyes and, for a moment, he was a child tucked beneath his sheets as his mother, a mundane turned Shadowhunter by the Mortal Cup, read him a bedtime story of an evil being in disguise waiting to consume a young girl adorned in red. <em> Like a deceptive Downworlder, Lo, </em> she said, <em> remember to never trust them. </em></p>
<p>“Immortals, always so vague.”</p>
<p>Clearly not amused, Virgil cut Dee off before he could respond, “We were just getting to why they were here when you came in. Something for Remy, but because he’s currently out doing fieldwork . . .”</p>
<p>“I can’t speak about this matter to children.”</p>
<p>“Fortunate enough for you, we both turned eighteen this year,” Logan said with one of his hands subconsciously wandering towards his hip where the hilt of his angel-blessed seraph blade rested. Waited and ready to be used.</p>
<p>Amusement flickered in the warlock’s eyes but Logan wasn’t looking his way, his infamous Lightwood eyes locked on Patton. <em> Just another green-eyed monster, </em>Logan recalled a different warlock saying years and years ago, although Magnus Bane preferred blue eyes and dark hair, from what Logan had heard.</p>
<p>“Just because the Clave claims that you’re of age doesn’t mean you are capable of handling anything. I am much, much older than your Shadowhunter government or capital city.” Dee’s voice was low, belittling, almost, as he talked of Alicante, the Shadowhunter country capital tucked into Europe and invisible to the eyes of all without the Sight. “And Patton is even older than me!”</p>
<p>“Dee’s right . . . you boys are young and we shouldn’t put too much pressure on you. So when Mr. Branwell returns, please tell him-”</p>
<p>“I think we Nephilim can handle much more than you give us credit for.”</p>
<p>Virgil made a sound of disgust before clearing his throat, quickly, and cleverly, jumping in before Patton could retort, “Novak, please get on with it.”</p>
<p>“Oh alright, I always forget that there isn’t enough time in a mortal’s life for <em> fun.” </em></p>
<p>A pause, neither Shadowhunter blinking as they waited for either of the immortal men to continue.</p>
<p>Patton decided to start, “There are . . . there are traditions that we Downworlders tightly cling to. Ceremonies, holidays, things that do not interfere with the Accords. I feel that it is sometimes forgotten that we live by the Accords too, even if we didn’t make them and although . . . although many of us disagree with various clauses, we follow them.”</p>
<p>The Sanctuary was dark save for Virgil’s witchlight, an enchanted stone that, when held by a man or woman with Shadowhunter blood, would glow. This light made Patton’s eyes dance, endless swirls like the surface of a Portal etched onto the surface of an unforgivable stone wall.</p>
<p>An unforgivable stone wall with sharp teeth that could easily be buried into Logan’s neck, killing him almost instantly.</p>
<p>“And tonight . . . tonight is a day of celebration. Our young are left in the woods to find their way back-”</p>
<p>“Are you fucking kidding me?” Virgil gritted his teeth, glaring daggers sharper than the one in his pocket. “Are you-”</p>
<p>“Hold your tongue until he’s finished, Virgil,” Logan scolded, gaze flickering back to Patton. “We need all the information first before the Clave can hold a proper trial.”</p>
<p>“For every Downworlder in the world? I would like to see you try, Shadowhunter,” Dee clipped back, expression unwavering.</p>
<p>Patton continued as if the argument had not arose at all, “Now, normally, the children survive. Learning over a few weeks how to fend for themselves and, for the vampires, how to protect oneself from werewolf attacks.” At the mention of his enemies, his fangs began to protrude and bruise his bottom lip.</p>
<p>Logan swallowed hard, focusing all his energy on listening.</p>
<p>“On Christmas Day, we bring the fledglings back to become an official part of the clan. I’m sure the werewolves do something similar with their cubs and the fae with their children.”</p>
<p>Warlocks, Logan knew without Dee having to say anything, were different. As the offspring of humans and demons, the final group of Downworlders were incapable of having children themselves. Because of this, most were not young, and older warlocks would never force those who were into the woods, especially not when their childhood experiences were all so horrific.</p>
<p>Logan had heard a story once of a warlock who’s step-father nearly drowned him in a river before his powers suddenly came to him, burning the man to a crisp and leaving the poor immortal truly alone in the world. Dee must have had a similar experience, Logan would bet a thousand pounds on it.</p>
<p>“For the past few years, none of our fledglings, the werewolf cubs, or the fae children have made it out alive.”</p>
<p>Patton’s words echoed against the walls of the Sanctuary, the witchlight flickering as Virgil took a breath. “A few years . . . and you’re telling us this <em> now?” </em></p>
<p>“Take no offense to it, the matter hardly involves you,” Dee hissed.</p>
<p>“It does when there are children dying!”</p>
<p>“The Clave doesn’t exactly have a history of pitying or helping downworlder children,” Patton added with a shrug.</p>
<p>“As if that makes any difference.”</p>
<p>Almost caught off guard, both Patton and Dee turned Logan’s way. The latter cocked his head slightly as the hint of a mocking smile spread across his lips. “Are you sure about that, Lightwood? You truly believe there is no difference between us?”</p>
<p>Under scrutiny, Logan refused to crack. He turned his eyes towards Patton and the words came easy. “It has always been our duty to protect this realm from demons.”</p>
<p>“No need to recite from the <em> Codex, </em>Gabriel, we were both there when your angel made the first of you,” Dee waved him off, glancing to his friend as if expecting to see disappointment.</p>
<p>“Logan,” he corrected, fingertips still brushing against the cool metal hilt of his runed blade.</p>
<p>“Logan,” Patton repeated with an untamed smile across his lips. Not a hint of disappointment in sight. “Logan . . . I have never heard a name like yours. Must’ve slept through the last century. Last I recall there were Williams and Gideons and Christophers-”</p>
<p>“And now there are Logans and,” Dee paused, looking somewhat serious for the subject, “what was it again, Ke? Virgin?”</p>
<p>“Virgil,” the dark-eyed man replied without blinking, Logan removing his hand from his blade and grabbing his <em> parabatai’s </em>wrist. Knowing that he had to hold him back, Dee, with centuries under his belt, knowing how to slither into the minds of anyone he wanted to and provoke them.</p>
<p>“I knew a Virgil once, a mortal man that wrote about the ancestor of his people. Brilliant mind. Brilliant, well, everything.”</p>
<p>Patton’s eyes met Logan’s once again, the witchlight flickering out as Virgil slipped the stone into his pocket and opened the door to the Sanctuary leading out onto the hallowed grounds. Virgil then said, “Enough. Take us to the forest, we’ll deal with this.”</p>
<p>“As you wish” was the vampire’s only reply, slipping out into the comfort of the night with the Lightwood heir following close behind. Logan kept his eyes on Dee as he locked the doors of the Institute and the Sanctuary, biting his bottom lip because he knew better than to leave the Shadowhunter refuge empty. Besides, Remy would slaughter them if he found out they had left.</p>
<p>But one look from Patton over his shoulder and Logan knew what he had to do, throwing his seraph blade into the back of his Corvette before sliding into the passenger’s seat, waiting until Virgil jumped into the passenger’s side before taking off.</p>
<p>Ahead of them was Dee Novak, the tip of their spear on a Harvey, and Patton with his arms wrapped around his waist and the wind combing through his blond curls.</p>
<p>Not that Logan was looking, not at all.</p>
<p>“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Virgil asked, fingers wrapped around his dagger as if ready to strike at a moment’s notice.</p>
<p>“You think it’s a trap?”</p>
<p>“A way for either of them to get into your pants, maybe.”</p>
<p>Logan clicked his tongue in disagreement, eyes flickering to his right shirt sleeve. “Put a night vision rune on me so I can turn off the lights.”</p>
<p>Virgil’s dagger was quickly replaced by his stele―a pen-like item Shadowhunters used to apply marks to make them faster, stronger, or, in this case, to see in the dark―and, soon enough, the dark world surrounding the pitch-black road slowly became more and more illuminated. Keeping the sleeve rolled up to Logan’s elbow and exposing his forearm, Virgil continued to draw various runes in case of battle.</p>
<p>“I trust you, Lo . . . but I think you’re listening to the wrong organ.”</p>
<p>“I never listen to my heart, Virgil.”</p>
<p>“And that’s a problem within itself. But you’re not listening to your head right now. Which I know is what you think you’re doing.”</p>
<p>In turn, a smirk flickered across his lips, arguments never serious between <em> parabatai, </em>at least not in Logan’s experience. “And what am I listening to instead? My blades, like you?”</p>
<p>A laugh escaped from Virgil and he shook his head, throwing his knife up into the air and out of sight. Momentum brought the blade plummeting down, tilt first, and Virgil managed to catch it by the hilt centimeters away from the top of his thigh. “I mean that you’re listening to your dick, Lightwood.”</p>
<p>Logan flickered off the headlights of the black Corvette, allowing the two of them to follow Dee and Patton into the dark night completely camouflaged, only distinguishable from the rest of the silence by Virgil’s laughter.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>With one hand on the shift stick and eyes scanning the world beyond the windshield, Logan was in stark contrast to his <em> parabatai </em>who was perfectly content with his feet kicked up on the dashboard. His prized dagger was still in his lap, switching between hands so quickly that, if not for the fact that Logan could place runes on Virgil’s skin, he would have sworn that the other was a warlock.</p>
<p>“We there yet?” he asked without looking up, pressing his finger against the side of his blade to test the sharpness.</p>
<p>“Not yet,” Logan replied easily, rolling his eyes at the sound of Virgil’s bored huffing. “I assume that it won’t be much longer, though.”</p>
<p>A figure dashed across the road and Logan swerved, just barely maneuvering the Corvette out of the way and slamming on the breaks before the car teetered off the road. He shifted the car into park and killed the engine, giving Virgil only a quick glance and saying, “Here” before both jumped out of the car.</p>
<p>Ahead of them, Dee stopped the bike and Patton jumped off, chasing after the darkened figure. Like the immortal vampire, Virgil pursued the creature, a dagger pressed to each palm like killer fangs of his own and whispering incantations to them while Logan pulled twin seraph blades out of the backseat.</p>
<p>Like his <em> parabatai, </em> Logan whispered, <em> “Uriel. Atheed.” </em>A different angelic name each time and, faithfully, the seraph blades began to glow soft blue, urging Logan on to follow the others.</p>
<p>Logan caught up to Virgil easily, strides longer due to the few inches he had on his <em> parabatai. </em>“Fuck, he’s fast,” Logan heard Virgil grunt, pressing his feet harder into the cold earth to increase his pace. Despite the angel blood that coursed through their veins, the supernatural creature they chased after must have had greater stamina than even theirs.</p>
<p>Fortunately, Patton had the advantage over them all by not having to breathe, his legs moving so quickly that it was hardly a few moments longer until he had caught the creature by the collar, Virgil pushing one last step before leaping and tackling them both to the ground.</p>
<p>Two voices of protest escaped from beneath Logan’s <em> parabatai, </em>one a cry of surprise and the other a werewolf’s snarl.</p>
<p>Skidding to a stop, Logan’s gaze flickered around the tree lines, searching for anything suspicious. His natural instinct was to protect Virgil and when seeing a figure walking towards them, Logan had to physically restrain himself from heading after him with blind rage and the need to keep Virgil alive the only thing driving him.</p>
<p>But it was just Dee, too old to feel any obligation to run, it seemed.</p>
<p>When the warlock arrived, he seemed to be studying the scene with an artistic eye. Likewise, Logan’s gaze flickered to Virgil, knowing that a lifetime of training would prevent either Downworlder cushioned beneath him from moving. Another angry snarl escaped from the werewolf and immediately, Virgil grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back just enough to slip the dagger besides his throat. Although Logan’s vision was obscured by Virgil’s body, he wondered if it bobbed nervously in the moonlight.</p>
<p>“I have you now, mutt,” Virgil murmured, adjusting his body for Patton to slip out from beneath his hold. Quickly on his feet, the immortal man turned to Logan with disapproval in his gaze, as if it were Logan’s fault that years of shaping his body into a weapon deadlier than even his trusted daggers was leading to do what Virgil was about to do.</p>
<p>Kill.</p>
<p>“Got any silver?” he called back to Logan and the werewolf beneath him struggled more, managing to shift enough to make eye contact with Virgil and stop him dead in his tracks.</p>
<p>Royal brown eyes stared back at him, the exact shade of Roman Estrella’s, pooling with liquid hate.</p>
<p>“Virgil, that’s not-” Logan began, cut off by a rustling in the forest only a few paces away. Virgil and the Downworlders looked up then, staring at a lone figure cloaked in shadows.</p>
<p>“Wrong twin, Ke, unless there’s something you and Remus want to tell me.”</p>
<p>Remus slipped out from Virgil’s hold with a hissed “Stupid Nephilm” before standing next to his brother. Logan watched as his fighting partner lifted himself to his knees, daggers held more loosely in his palms. Keen, hawk-like eyes trained on his lover.</p>
<p>It looked like none of them were going to speak so Logan cleared his throat, “Apologies for this, Roman. We’re here on a mission.”</p>
<p>“A bit far from the Institute, don’t you think?” Roman clipped in response. Shadowhunters, true to their name, were stationed in every major city to protect its people from demons—like how Virgil’s family was in China and a good portion of Logan’s maintained the London Institute—but there were many smaller Shadowhunter-run bases, like the temple in Springfield. So, really, there was no need for Logan and Virgil to travel so far. “The Rosewains are at Sinai. Why come?”</p>
<p>Logan lowered his blades but kept them in sight. He trusted Roman—and Remus, if only a little less—but he and Virgil were still oblivious to what they were up against. “A bit far, yes, but we’re doing our job. What are you two doing so far from the city?”</p>
<p>Besides him, Patton’s lips were drawn tight as if holding back his fangs. Logan hoped he wouldn’t have to stake him, not a fan of the paperwork.</p>
<p>“Almost the full moon, pack doesn’t want to destroy the town.”</p>
<p>The moon was almost new, hardly even a devious smile in the sky.</p>
<p>“Look, Roman, we’re not blaming you-” Virgil started, slowly lifting himself to his feet after Logan placed a hand on his bicep and forced him up.</p>
<p>“Then why are you here when there were three murdered Downworlders only half a mile away rotting in those woods, bodies in ribbons?” Dee interjected, snake tongue, the other part of his warlock’s mark, momentarily slipping from between his lips as he stared the werewolf twins down.</p>
<p>“You’re blaming me for the fae’s game?” Roman growled in turn, voice gruff and eyes, ones that Logan had seen so often paired with a smile when in his <em> parabatai’ </em>s presence, darker than night.</p>
<p>“Fae? My fledglings have been torn apart year after year not by the Seelie or Unseelie Courts!” Patton cried out, anger visible in his eyes. Logan was taken aback and only the werewolves didn’t falter. “The fae have lost their children and I know that you have as well. So please, Dee, don’t accuse them but you boys . . . think about the children. Their safety is more important than feuds.”</p>
<p>Remus mumbled under his breath, something that sounded to Logan like “Blood sucker” while tugging on his brother’s hand. Pulling him closer, the most untrusting of them all.</p>
<p>“We’re all on the same side,” Patton expressed again, his fangs having retracted the moment he realized that the group was in no immediate danger. “If we all stay together, I’m sure that we’ll be able to-”</p>
<p>A horrific scream sounded from the forest, seeming to shake the trees and cutting off the rest of Patton’s sentence. Without a thought, the six of them were racing into the dark depths, Logan’s heart pumping.</p>
<p>
  <em> Another child, something is going to kill another child. </em>
</p>
<p>Roman shouted in pain, Logan assuming he had tripped over a root but another childish shout seeming to sing along in a mock-harmony brought him back their way. In Roman’s arms was a young faerie girl—a tree nymph, by the looks of it—who was bleeding out of her eyes.</p>
<p>“By the Angel,” Virgil breathed, giving himself only a moment of surprise before he was scanning the thicket, searching for the source of this girl’s pain. Logan was by his back, internally cursing himself because he knew that Virgil was barely runed. A <em> sure-footed </em>from days ago, maybe. Nothing more.</p>
<p>If Virgil died tonight, the death would be solely on Logan’s hands.</p>
<p>A demon sprang from above, Logan’s instincts kicking in just in time to tackle Virgil by the waist and pull them both out of harm’s way.</p>
<p>Besides them, Roman tried to stand with the nymph in his arms, but she was rooted to the earth, refusing to yield. A single look between one another before Logan and Virgil were flanking Roman’s sides, glaring down the ichor-filled demon with pure hatred in their gaze. Remus and Dee quickly joined their ranks, green snake-like smoke slithered in the warlock’s hand as the werewolf’s fists closed into tight fists.</p>
<p>“This is going to be fun,” Dee mused before the moon vanished behind a darkened stormcloud and the world was flooded into a true darkness.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>From his position slouching against the tree, Logan could hear Dee grunt more to himself than anyone, “That was not nearly as fun as I would have hoped.”</p>
<p>But of course not, the demon had fought hard and by the time Virgil had landed the killing blow, the fae child had been long dead. The group watched as her corpse slowly sank into the earth, forest-green hair bowing to the grass before she was gone from sight.</p>
<p>Patton had moved a hefty rock to place at the base of her tree, silent when he half-collapsed into the backseat of the Boston-bound black Corvette.</p>
<p>As soon as the fight had ended, Dee had sped off on his bike, abandoning the five of them. Logan had gone back to his car to wait for Virgil but his <em> parabatai </em>stood by the treeline, arms enveloping Roman as the werewolf’s body racked with sobs.</p>
<p>They had all seen death before, knew it better than their names, but nothing quite as gruesome, as earth shattering.</p>
<p>In the backseat, Patton was silent, seemingly uninclined to discuss the most recent events.</p>
<p>“Are you alright?” Logan asked after a moment.</p>
<p>“I’ve seen many children die before.”</p>
<p>“That wasn’t exactly an answer.”</p>
<p>“But most would have taken it as one.”</p>
<p>Logan sighed and pulled the key out of the ignition, turning in his seat to see Patton's pale face. Paler than a vampire’s should be. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”</p>
<p>A moment to think before Patton shook his head.</p>
<p>Logan opened the driver’s door closing it softly behind him before pulling himself into the backseat, having enough dignity to crawl over and into the back. Their knees brushed and as if it were an old habit, Patton’s breath hitched.</p>
<p>Old gods died hard, after all.</p>
<p>Swallowing hard, Logan’s hands were somehow steady as he shifted the cloth to reveal his neck. He had lost the tie at some point during the drive but both he and Virgil had forgotten their gear, something they would most definitely be scolded for upon their returning to the Institute.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” Patton hesitantly asked, hunger laced in his words. But after all of his years alive, there was restraint there—alluding to the fact that he would rather die than be disrespectful to Logan or any other human he fed from.</p>
<p>And there was nothing, nothing Logan could say in response to the look in Patton’s eyes. Instead, he merely dropped his hand—his right with the permanent Voyance rune on the back of it—and licked his bottom lip.</p>
<p>“Unless you would prefer death, or as close as your kind can come to it.”</p>
<p>There was nothing graceful about this dance, no calculated strides of making eye contact across the room before gliding across it, taking a lover into his arms and swaying to the music.</p>
<p>“We can die, you know,” Patton murmured, inching closer. Logan’s skin prickled but he forced himself to remain still, allowing the other to approach him. “ I’m just as alive as you are. Kind of.”</p>
<p>Logan nearly flinched when Patton placed a firm hand on his shoulder, brilliant eyes studying him. Ichor stained Logan’s clothes and had burned through the cloth in certain areas, his hair equally disheveled from the battle, but Patton was looking at him as if it didn’t matter.</p>
<p>As if in all his life, he had never met a man like Logan Lightwood.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” Patton repeated, veiny hand sliding up from Logan’s shoulder to cup his cheek. Their eyes immediately found one another and there was no pretending that it was anything else, that this was a dream that Logan would wake up from.</p>
<p>Patton’s eyes flickered down to Logan’s pale, delicate neck, unmarked except for the black swirls of his <em> parabatai </em>rune.</p>
<p>He tilted his neck again, adjusting his glasses on his nose while saying, “I won’t offer again, vampire-“ but he didn’t finish, rendered incapable of doing so as he felt twin daggers sink into his skin. Logan’s eyes fluttered shut, breath hitching as his fingers slipped into Patton’s hair while the other’s hand once again found his shoulder and squeezed.</p>
<p>A promise, of sorts, that it would be okay.</p>
<p>From all Logan had heard about vampire bites, the feeling of euphoria wasn’t one of them. It was a dirty deed, sinful in every way—he was letting a vampire drink his blood as if he were no more than cattle—but all he could think about was Patton’s soft lips on his skin like a kiss, the way his hand traveled from his bicep to his chest and pressed flat against it. Caressing, gentle.</p>
<p><em> I won’t hurt you, </em> Patton silently promised, teeth deep into Logan’s neck. <em> I won’t hurt you. </em></p>
<p>Logan nearly moaned and Patton continued to drink, the moment far more intimate than either of them had anticipated.</p>
<p>There really was nothing about Patton that reminded Logan of Magnus. Not those deep blue eyes flickering behind his closed lids like fire so hot that it was freezing to the touch—a color so common nowadays and yet so extraordinary when they belonged to Patton. Certainly not the way their bodies so close and Logan wanted to be closer to, the feeling of Patton everywhere being all-consuming.</p>
<p>Thank the Angel that they were alone.</p>
<p>A knocking on the car window jolted the two apart, Patton wiping his lips with the back of his hand as Logan turned towards his <em> parabatai </em>who was staring at him with a knowing smirk.</p>
<p>“I should be going, then,” Patton spoke with a nod, cheeks filled with color again. From Logan’s blood now in his system and from no longer starving, of course.</p>
<p>“Right,” Logan nodded, rubbing his face and nodding again, “Right . . . is there a place you need to go?”</p>
<p>“No, no . . . thank you, Mr. Lightwood, but I can find my way. I always have.”</p>
<p>And without another word, he was gone, vanishing into the woods without a trace. Logan knew better than to go after him, giving himself a moment as if to be entirely sure that the other was gone before crawling into the front seat.</p>
<p>Virgil was waiting for him, silver gaze locked on his friend. Waiting for an answer.</p>
<p>Logan started the car instead.</p>
<p>“I was right, then?” Virgil asked, amusement laced in his words. Despite his grim conversation with Roman, he seemed rather pleased with himself. Maybe the werewolf sucked his dick after, or maybe it was solely the fact that he thought that Logan hadn’t been thinking with his head at all.</p>
<p>“Patton hadn’t drank in days . . . I did what was required of me and nothing more.” Although Logan didn’t know for sure, he had safely assumed that it was true. Convinced himself of it, too.</p>
<p>“A Shadowhunter’s duty, of course.”</p>
<p>Shifting into the first gear, Logan turned the car around and started the long drive back to Boston. Wordless, at first. But as the trip continued, Virgil confessed to his relationship with Roman—probably expecting Logan to explain his attraction to Patton, which of course he didn’t have. Mindless chatter from there, just as usual. Nothing amiss or different, even with the two marks throbbing against Logan’s neck and the faerie child’s blood on Virgil’s hands that seemed like he would never be able to wash them off.</p>
<p>But, really, it was just another day for a Shadowhunter and when they arrived at the Institute hours later, nothing had changed. Not the stained glass, the heavy mahogany doors, or the fact that the halls were still silent and empty.</p>
<p>They had Raziel to thank for that and after Virgil finished his bath and slipped into bed, Logan would thank the Shadowhunter’s creator again and again for who he found waiting for him in the Sanctuary, smile wide and eyes transporting him to another realm entirely.</p>
<p>“Because I can’t go inside . . . will you stay with me out here?”</p>
<p>There was a singler cot in the Sanctuary, but they made do.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey guys!</p>
<p>a lot has happened in my personal life really and although i can blame it on mercury going into retrograde,,,,it’s so bad i don’t even want to joke about it lol.</p>
<p>thank you everyone for being supportive and hopefully you enjoyed this! lmao</p>
<p>until next time,<br/>ronnie</p></blockquote></div></div>
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